


Back Against The Wall (You Won't Take Me Outside)

by Taurenova (JenNova)



Category: Sirens (UK TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/Taurenova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sirens High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Done In Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Because every fledgling fandom needs a High School AU, right? (What am I even doing?)
> 
> Title from [The Pigeon Detectives - Done In Secret](http://youtu.be/y0kl-5Tljgs) because it's somehow fitting.
> 
> As with many things I write nowadays - Very Much a WiP.
> 
> Chapter One: in which Ash gets off, gets up, goes to school and is tragically in love with his (straight) best mate.

“Look at me,” the guys says, trying to jerk Ash’s head up, but Ash doesn’t want to look, it’s so much easier if he doesn’t.

The guy’s hand is powerful on his cock, just the right side of painful and, if Ash stretches his imagination, he can pretend it’s the hand he wants. He shakes his head and redoubles his efforts on the guy’s cock, listening as his breaths gasp in his chest.

“Have it your way,” the guy is pressed in all around Ash, his back to the wall, and this is a familiar feeling. “The way you were dancing I didn’t take you for the self-hating type.”

“Shut up,” Ash grits his teeth as the guy drags a thumb over the head of his cock.

“Oh, that’s how it is,” the guy huffs a laugh. “Well, sweetheart, I can be the anonymous substitute back alley fuck – you only had to ask.”

And he shuts up. Which is wrong, of course – the person Ash will convince himself he wasn’t thinking of would never shut up. He’d just keep talking and drive Ash mad with it, probably telling Ash about all the things he wants to do to Ash (judging from his taste in porn) and Ash would –

“Ah, fuck,” Ash comes over the guy’s fist, after images of his fantasy flickering over the inside of his eyes - _would you get off from watching me get off?_ \- as his hand slowed on the other guy’s cock.

“If you ask me,” the guy said when Ash opened his eyes briefly ( _leaning against a wall, dark haired, not at all who Ash really wants_ ). “You’d be better off telling him how you feel.”

Ash makes a noise and drops to his knees, taking the guy’s cock into his mouth before he can offer anymore advice. The guy lets out a shuddering breath and places a hand on the top of Ash’s head, guiding him.

( _‘Do that for him,’ he says after he comes in Ash’s mouth, ‘and he’ll be yours forever.’_ )

Ash will be more than a little disgusted with himself in the morning (not unusual) and his mum will be disappointed with the stench of cigarettes and lager on his clothes (again, not unusual) and meeting Stuart’s eyes will be awkward as hell (happening too often now) but sated and smelling of sex as he walks home he’s able to simply not care.

It’s terrible, really, the things being in love with your straight best mate will make you do.

\--

Stuart and Ash have been talking about their last year of school since the day they met. Specifically: Stuart had sat down next to Ash on his first day (newly moved from Glasgow and terrified that being Scottish would just be another thing for him to be bullied over) of year 10 and announced –

“I can’t wait to get away from these ignorant twats,” sneering at the two students wrestling at the front of the class room whilst the rest of registration class threw balls of paper at them.

“Aye,” Ash agreed (instantly hating himself for being so Scottish) for completely different reasons he was sure.

“Stuart, by the way,” Stuart stuck out a hand and Ash shook it absentmindedly. “I can be a bit of a prick, apparently, and I don’t really make friends well but you’re new so maybe we can have a fresh start.”

“Ashley,” Ash said, staring at Stuart. “I didn’t have many friends at my last school either."

“Are you a prick too?” Stuart grinned as he asked the question tipping his chair back on two legs.

“No, but I am gay,” Ash said (to this day he doesn’t know why he blurted it out like that). Stuart’s chair legs hit the ground again and he stared at Ash as if he thought Ash was fucking him about. Ash stared back.

“Well,” his grin going sharp. “It’s good thing we’ve decided to be mates, Ashley-from-Scotland, because you’re going to cop a lot of shit for that here and I fight dirty.”

(And Stuart had fought dirty on Ash’s behalf and taught Ash how to fight dirty as well and after a while the bullies stopped trying)

His alarm sounds early enough for him to hopefully get to the shower before his mum gets a whiff of his night out (though there’s no way she doesn’t know how late he got in). He’s had maybe a few hours sleep and his mouth tastes like their cat took a shit in it overnight but he feels surprisingly bright.

“This is it,” he tells the smiley face he draws on the steamed up bathroom mirror. “The beginning of the final fucking countdown.”

His mum’s disapproval is palpable when he comes down stairs but he figures she must be cutting him some slack when she only lectures him for fifteen minutes instead of the regular half hour.

“Just – promise me you’ll always be careful,” she says when she’s finished, something sad in her eyes. Ash feels like a complete prick.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” he says, meaning it.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as she passes him. “But it won’t stop you from doing it again.”

The resignation in her voice makes him promise himself he really won’t do it again this time. Unfortunately he also knows himself well enough to know he will, the next time he spends too much time around Stuart. Last night had been the result of spending the night at Stuart’s and genuinely accidentally catching sight of Stuart’s morning wood (Stuart was the kind of mate who really didn’t give a shit about sharing a bed with his gay best mate and, unfortunately for Ash, this just made him love him more).

“This whole problem would be solved if your Stuart was gay,” Mum startles him so much he nearly chokes on his tea.

“Mum!” he says, wiping tea off his chin.

“I’m just saying,” Mum says, spreading her hands. “The amount of time you spend with each other – you might as well be sleeping together. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about what sorts of STDs you’re catching from those clubs you shouldn’t even be able to get in to.”

“ _Mum!_ ” Ash jumps up, abandoning his breakfast. “Just, God, please stop talking. I’m going.”

“Brush your teeth!” Mum shouts after him as he bounds up the stairs to throw his school shit into his bag.

“Alright, Mum,” he shouts back down to her.

“And go to confession this weekend,” she adds when he comes back down again.

“Will it stop you from talking about Stuart?” he asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Oooh,” Mum says, tapping a finger against her chin. “For at least a month.”

“I’ll go,” he says, kissing her on the cheek. “But you know it doesn’t mean much when you’re just going to sin again.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Mum says, following him to the door. “Now, stop a moment.”

Ash obligingly stops by the door and lets her fuss about with the collar of his t-shirt. She puts a hand either side of his face and just looks at him.

“Mum, I’ve got to go,” he says, softly.

“I know,” Mum says, smiling wistfully. “Allow your Mum her little moments. This is the beginning of the last year I’ll have you all to myself.”

“Mum,” Ash says, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But it won’t be the same when you start university,” she says, shaking her head. “You won’t listen to me anymore.”

“Who says I listen to you now?” Ash asks, grinning as she goes to smack him on the arm. “Love you, Mum.”

“Have a good day,” Mum says, holding the door for him. “Try not to let Stuart get you into trouble.”

“Never on the first day, Mum,” Ash says over his shoulder. He waves to her from the gate and she waves back, her smile all sad again.

He doesn’t really like thinking about it but he knows she’s right. Even if he does end up staying in Leeds for uni he’ll probably move in with Stuart somewhere and it _won’t_ be the same. He and Stuart have been planning it for years, after all.

\--

Stuart meets Ash at the top of his street and Ash was right, it’s awkward to meet his eyes. If Stuart notices he doesn’t say anything, simply throwing an arm over Ash’s shoulders and hauling him down to mess up his hair. It’s tradition, almost, that Stuart will fuck with Ash’s hair every morning and yet Ash still makes an effort.

(He’s mostly stopped flushing when Stuart tells him that it looks better like that, finally getting his heart to understand that Stuart doesn’t mean it _like that_.)

“Someone got laid last night,” Stuart says, releasing Ash. “I can always tell.”

“Oh, fuck off, you can’t tell,” Ash would probably cry if this wasn’t what their entire relationship was like.

“I can when it comes to you,” Stuart says, slapping him on the back. “On a school night, no less. In fact – the night before the first day of our very last year in this hellpit. Your mum must’ve been livid.”

“I could sense the disappointment when I woke up,” Ash admits. Only Stuart can get away with a word like livid at their age.

“Another one of your anonymous back alley fucks?” Stuart asks, walking backwards so he can witness the flow of embarrassment across Ash’s face. “That’s so unhygienic I just don’t even know what to do with you.”

“Well it’s not like I’m going to get it from anyone else around here,” Ash says, shrugging his shoulders. Stuart’s face softens briefly and, God, Ash hates it when Stuart actually _cares_.

“Still pissed off you fucked up with Ryan?” Stuart asks and Ash sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Even if I hadn’t been such an inadvertently racist arsehole at him,” Ash admits, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It was never really going to work. Ryan’s nice but –” _he’s not you_ , _I don’t want nice_ , “it would never have lasted.”

“Plenty of more queer fish in the sea, mate,” Stuart says, turning around and falling into step with Ash. “Who knows – maybe there’ll even be _new_ fish, this year. Something to look forwards to, eh?”

Stuart elbows him and Ash forces a smile. Stuart laughs and Ash’s heart skips a beat. Why he did have to be such a fucking tragic stereotype?

\--

“Stuart, Ashley,” Mrs Woodvine says as she walks into the classroom. She’s trailing a student Ash doesn’t recognise. “New student. Your responsibility. Don’t fuck him up.”

One of Ash’s only favourite things about Woodvine is that she’s never bothered not to swear around her sixth form students. She points the new student in their direction and sits at her desk, opening the paper and ignoring the entire registration class.

“Just your type, isn’t he?” Stuart asks under his breath and Ash punches him on the arm. He should never have told Stuart he liked big guys, he’s never let it rest.

The new student is tall and well built across the shoulders. Rest of him is pretty gangly, though, and he doesn’t really fit into the chair on the other side of Ash. Ash would guess at Morrocan parentage, but he’s not always good at that sort of thing (see: being an inadvertently racist arsehole to people).

“Alright,” the student says, turning to face them. “M’name’s Rachid.”

“Ashley,” Ash nods, offering a smile.

“Stuart,” Stuart leans past Ash to give a sarcastic salute. “Just moved here, Rachid?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rachid asks and Ash is taken aback too. It’s not like Stuart to be that kind of offensive.

“Your accent, mate,” Stuart says, giving both of them one of his ‘for fuck’s sake’ looks. “It’s bit Sheffield for being from around here.”

“Oh, right,” Rachid says, the brief anger on his face slipping away to be replaced by a smile. “Yeah. Dad moved for work.”

“Must be fucking hard, though,” Stuart adds. “Shifting in the middle of A-levels.”

“Eh,” Rachid shrugs. “I wasn’t doing that brilliant, anyway. Hoping I can do better here.”

“Well, stick with us,” Stuart says, tipping his chair back in exactly the way that’s always worried Ash. “We’ll see you get Ds at least.”

“Don’t mind Stuart,” Ash says, shaking his head. “He’s an arrogant prick but a pretty good mate, most of the time.”

“Your backhand compliments always fill me with joy, Ash,” Stuart says, clasping a hand over his heart.

“Chair, Stuart,” Woodvine says from the front of the room and Stuart rocks forwards, frowning.

“Fucked if I know how she always knows,” Stuart grumbles while Ash laughs. Rachid laughs a moment behind him and, Christ, it’s going to be fun showing him around if he’s just going to copy everything they do.

“She sees all, is why,” Ash says, laughing when Stuart makes a face at him.

“Timetables!” Kirsty arrives at their tables with a bounce in her step. Ash settles a hand on Stuart’s elbow before he can take his regular shot at her.

“Leave it, today,” Ash says when Stuart shoots him a look. Stuart sighs heavily but nods before shrugging Ash’s hand off and taking his timetable with thanks and everything.

Kirsty blinks at him and, to be fair to her, Ash doesn’t blame her. Stuart’s probably expressed gratitude in her direction a total of five times in the past year.

“Thanks,” Ash says, with a smile, when Kirsty turns to him. She smiles back and moves onto Rachid.

“You must be Rachid,” she says, handing his timetable over. “But, oh, is that – did I just racially profile you? I’m so sorry –”

“Well, Kirsty, considering he’s the only new student and Rachid is probably the only name on that pile of paper you don’t recognise I think it’s safe to say you probably didn’t,” Stuart says before Rachid can say anything. Kirsty frowns at Stuart but Ash can see the hint of relief in her eyes.

It’s probably a good thing that Stuart doesn’t know that people are relieved when he behaves like a bastard. He’s not sure what sort of message that would send and he likes Stuart just the way he is.

“Thanks, anyway,” Rachid says, taking the timetable.

“I’m Kirsty, by the way,” Kirsty says, thrusting a hand out towards him. Rachid shakes it with the same nonplussed air Kirsty is probably used to being on the receiving end of by now. “If you have any questions or just need someone to talk to about starting at a new school, or whatever, I’m always willing.”

“Uh, thanks,” Rachid says, blinking in the face of her sunny optimism. She bounces away and Ash can already feel Stuart winding up before she’s even out of earshot.

“Fucking Kirsty,” Stuart says, face twisted up.

“She seems nice, I thought,” Rachid says and Ash almost laughs. Rachid will be fun if he always accidentally says exactly what will wind Stuart up most.

“Oh, she _seems_ nice, I’ll give you that,” Stuart says, gathering steam. “But then she tries to apply her fucking A/S Psychology to you and suddenly it’s all ‘tell me how you feel about that’ and fucking linking every shit thing in your life to your father and it’s just twenty-four hour bullshit.”

 _Ex?_ Rachid mouths at Ash, shielding his face from Stuart with his timetable. Ash snorts. _Shot him down_ , he mouths back. He’s drawn back to Stuart when he utters a loud groan.

“What?” he asks, leaning over to look at Stuart’s timetable, now spread on the table before him. It’ll be practically the same as his own (only substituting English Lit for Theatre Studies) and the odds are Stuart’s groan affects him as well.

“Double fucking maths!” Stuart says, bringing hand down onto the table. “First thing, first day back. Double fucking maths. Sadists.”

Ash offers his own groan as the bell rings to announce the beginning of their day. He stands up, stuffing the timetable into his pocket for looking at properly later, and slings his bag back over his shoulder.

“Um, could one of you at least tell me where to go?” Rachid asks, looking more than a little lost.

“What’ve you got first?” Stuart, standing, puts a hand on the table in front of Ash and leans past him, pressing up against him in a way that makes Ash want to hold his breath. (Stuart always smells so fucking good, it drives Ash mad.)

“Classical Studies,” Rachid says after staring at his timetable for a moment.

“Right,” Stuart says, pushing past Ash as if he expects Ash to move (he does) without comment. He grabs Rachid’s timetable and draws a half-hearted map on the back of it.

“If you get completely lost just look for the fuck-ugly portables,” Stuart says, handing the timetable back. “Try doors until you find the one with bow-tie wearing teacher putting his class to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Rachid says, smiling in a way that’s almost adorable. “Um, see you guys at break?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ash says, clapping Rachid on the shoulder as they walk towards the door.

“We’ll find you,” Stuart says, hitching his bag higher. “It’ll be quicker, believe me.”

Rachid goes off in a different direction to them and Ash follows Stuart as they drag themselves towards the Maths corridor with the air of two men going to their execution. It doesn’t matter that they’re both good at the subject, double maths at 9 in the morning is fucking sadistic.

\--

“Only one more year,” Stuart says as they settle into their habitual chairs, right in the middle of the class room. “Then no more double fucking maths ever again.”

“We can but hope,” Ash says, being far more realistic about the likelihood of maths coming up in their university careers.

“Settle down, all of you,” Mr Singh says, dumping an armload of papers on the desk. “We’ve got a lot to get through and the less interruptions the sooner all of us can forget about the pain of double maths first thing in the morning. I’m looking at you, Stuart.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet, sir,” Stuart says, widening his eyes in innocence.

“But you will,” Mr Singh says, handing a sheaf of paper to John-in-the-front-row. “I’d thank God, if there was such a thing, that this is the last year I’m going to have to put up with you two.”

“Hey,” Ash protests. “I think I’m being unjustly accused.”

“Protest noted, Ashley,” Mr Singh says, turning to the nice clean whiteboard at the front of the room. “But this is a school and not a democracy. I'll accuse you if I like.”

Stuart shifts in his seat to pass the handout back after taking one for each of them and when he settles again his left leg is pressed up against Ash’s. Ash forces himself not to twitch away as if burned and tugs a pencil out of his case. Stuart’s leg is like a warm brand against his and he desperately tries not to think about it.

Double. Fucking. Maths.


	2. The Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rachid is given a brief tour, Ash is momentarily jealous, Stuart is Stuart and we meet some more teachers.

They find Rachid hanging around the entrance of the Sixth Form common room at the beginning of break. It doesn’t surprise Ash that he’s on his own – the Classics lot are clique-ey as fuck and take a while to warm up to new students.

“The Tour?” Stuart asks as they approach, waving when Rachid spots them.

“The Tour,” Ash nods.

The Tour doesn’t really deserve the capital letter but has become a tradition. Ever since Stuart went out of his way to befriend Ash he’d become the go-to for ‘new student liaison’ despite being regularly described as a ‘cocky prick’ by most of his teachers. What baffles them most of all, though, is that Stuart seems to actually like doing it. This is because they don’t know about the Tour – which pretty much boils down to fifteen minutes in which Stuart corrupts the new student.

“Alright,” Rachid says as the join them, his mouth splitting into a relieved smile. Ash and Stuart nod in response, Stuart turning his head as if looking for someone. “Hey, you were right about Porteous, man, guy’s a total bore.”

“He’s not that bad once you get him going,” Ash says, trying to not look for whoever Stuart’s trying to spot too obviously. “Get him started on a tangent and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Let’s go then,” Stuart says, turning back to them and looking up at Rachid (it doesn’t always register that Stuart is shorter than Ash, he takes up so much space in Ash’s head). “You need the Tour.”

“The Tour?” Rachid asks, falling in beside Ash as Stuart heads down the stairs. “Like – where my classes are?”

“Oh, much more important things than that,” Stuart says dismissively. There’s too much intent about him for this to just be about the Tour. Ash desperately wants to know who Stuart’s looking for.

“I’d quite like to know where I’m going, but,” Rachid says, just loud enough for Ash to hear.

“Don’t worry,” Ash says, holding a hand out, “give us your timetable and I’ll point them out as we go.”

“Thanks,” Rachid passes a crumpled timetable over with a smile.

“The Tour starts here,” Stuart announces when they reach the main English corridor. He gestures to a plain brown door with English notices pinned up all over it.

“It’s a door,” Rachid says, turning his palms up and shrugging. “What do you –”

“Not just any door,” Ash says, pushing the door open to let a waft of fresh-smelling air drift out.

“Toilets,” Rachid states flatly, looking through the door. “Why –”

“Not just any toilets,” Stuart says, ducking under Ash’s arm (which shouldn’t make Ash’s heart spin in his chest). Ash nods Rachid through before him, leaning against the door when it falls shut.

“The only consistently clean toilets in the whole school,” Stuart continues, spreading his arms out to encompass the sparkling white room. “The English teachers complained for a year straight about the smell when we were in year 11. Because the school has a ‘reputation for excellence’ in Lit and Lang – they did something about it.”

“Only the English faculty and students know about them,” Ash says, folding his arms across his chest.

“So don’t tell anyone,” Stuart says, wearing a serious expression. Most people would’ve thought he was taking the piss – but Ash knows how deadly serious Stuart is about clean toilets.

“Good thing I’m an English student then, yeah?” Rachid asks, a smile splitting his face again.

“You think we would’ve shown you this if we didn’t already know?” Stuart asks, moving determinedly towards the door again. Ash steps aside and holds the door, executing a mock bow when Stuart looks at him as he goes past. The answering smile is a nice reward.

“Language is just down there,” Ash nods down the corridor as Stuart spins off in the opposite direction. “Looks like we’ve all got the same teacher.”

“Do you have all the same classes?” Rachid asks as Stuart leads them down another flight of stairs and turns sharply right.

“Not all,” Ash says, slightly defensive. “Three.”

“That’s –” Rachid starts but Stuart interrupts him before he has a chance to share his opinion.

“Because we have a plan, don’t we Ash?” Stuart falls back a little, his steps instantly syncing with Ash’s.

“Aye, we do,” Ash says, smiling. His right arm is brushing against Stuart’s left as they walk and it’s always like this on the first day back; feeling Stuart’s presence too keenly and feeling like something is fizzing just under his skin. He wishes he had the strength to pull away.

“What is it then?” Rachid asks when they walk on in silence.

“That’s for us to know and you to find out if we decide we like you enough,” Stuart says and Ash barely covers a laugh. It only encourages him. Stuart catches him and the fond smile, the one that makes Ash think he’d be content to stay like this forever, ripples across his features.

Ash likes to think of it as _his smile_ because he’s never seen Stuart direct it at anyone else. Not even Maxine and Stuart’s been mates with her since first school.

“Stop two on the Tour,” Ash says, when they exit the seedy corridors that wrap around the PE department.

“It’s a courtyard,” Rachid says, looking about himself.

“And every Thursday lunchtime it’s where you come if you want to buy something, shall we say, not particularly legal,” Stuart says, kicking a booted foot against the cinderblock wall.

“What, drugs and stuff?” Rachid asks. Stuart shrugs.

“Pretty much anything you can think of, someone here’ll be able to get it,” Ash says. Rachid’s eyes go calculating.

“Porn?” he asks and Stuart laughs, bright and loud, doubling over slightly.

“Oh, my friend,” he says, clapping Rachid on the shoulder. “All the porn you could imagine.

“Don’t know,” Rachid says. “I can imagine a lot of porn.”

“More than that,” Ash says, meeting Stuart’s eyes and letting the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“That’s a lot of porn,” Rachid says, blinking. Stuart laughs again and moves back over to the door. This time he motions for Ash to go first and Ash impresses himself by not making a joke about Stuart wanting to check out his arse.

Then he worries that he should have, because he’s been making that joke nearly every time Stuart opens a door for him since they met, and Stuart might think he’s being weird if he doesn’t make it and –

“It’s alright if you find yourself looking at Ash’s arse, by the way,” Stuart says from behind him and Ash whirls about to find Rachid’s eyes going desperately wide. Stuart’s eyes are on Ash’s as he continues: “Pretty much everyone has at one time or another. It’s like it’s magnetic. Or hypnotic.”

“Stuart –” Ash says, low and warning. Something flickers across Stuart’s eyes before his mouth widens into the particular shit-eating grin that always makes Ash want to slap him.

“I weren’t, honest –” Rachid says, waving his arms about. Stuart scoffs.

“You were,” he says, still looking at Ash and, oh God, he thinks he’s helping, doesn’t he? Ash would kill Stuart if he didn’t know that would just end in Ash dying alone, surrounded by cats. “It’s alright, seriously, he’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You’re a prick, Stuart Bayldon,” Ash says and there’s enough venom in his voice to make Stuart understand he means it. Remorse crosses his face and that’s – that’s a new thing. It wrong-foots Ash spectacularly.

“Are you trying to say he’s gay?” Rachid asks, looking between them with bewilderment etched large on his face. “’Cos I didn’t think it were cool to out people.”

“It’s alright, Rachid,” Ash says, dragging his eyes away from Stuart’s at last. “I’m pretty openly out. No harm done. Well – unless you’re a bigot.”

“Are you a bigot, Rachid?” Stuart asks and there’s a depth of meaning to his tone – a tone that suggests he will _break_ Rachid if he says the wrong thing right now. Ash’s heart skips a beat in his chest, like it always does.

“Um,” Rachid looks down at himself and raises his eyebrows. “Kinda hard to be when you look like this and, you know, eat halal.”

There’s a moment of silence while they take in the meaning of that statement and something about Stuart softens, only enough that Ash would notice, and the tension eases out of the air. As much as Ash appreciates Stuart’s weird brand of protectiveness he always prefers it when he doesn’t wield it like a weapon.

“Welcome to the edge of society,” Stuart says, turning away. “Come on, we’ll show you where you can smoke the stuff you buy from the dealers.”

Which is around the back of the canteen where the constant humming from the exhaust fan, plus the steam that pours out of it, covers up the hacking coughs of the kids who’ve been smoking twenty a day since they were ten.

Ash’s phone buzzes in his pocket when they’re half way across the school. Stuart’s name is on the display when he pulls it out and he looks up at Stuart’s back, two steps ahead of him. Stuart figured out how to text without looking within a few days of getting his first phone.

 _sorry, that was dick behaviour_

 _yeah, it was_ Ash sends back, shaking his head. Stuart never apologies in front of other people. Thinks it weakens his reputation as the biggest prick in the school. Ash has never figured out why Stuart’s so obsessed with it.

 _make it up to you?_

 _oh yeah? how?_

 _got a copy of that gay surfer movie you were looking for. we could watch it after school?_

Ash actually stops walking in surprise. Stuart has – he’s never given two shits about Ash’s sexuality (if he did he might have noticed the way Ash stares at him with hearts in his eyes _all the time_ ) but he’s never gone out of his way to have anything to do with it (beyond mocking Ash’s taste in men _constantly_ ) and he’s certainly never offered to watch anything with him.

(“They’re always so fucking depressing,” Stuart had said when he complained about Maxine forcing him to watch Brokeback Mountain once. That was before Ash and Stuart had met. “I get enough of that just _existing_. You let me know when you hear about a gay film that has a happy ending, mate, and I’ll watch the fuck out of it with you.”)

Ash had never thought Stuart would actually make good on his promise. Something hot and huge flares in his chest and he tries desperately to smother it. Hope has done enough damage to him before when it comes to Stuart, he can’t let it happen again.

“Oi, are you coming you ginger twat?” Stuart calls, now far enough ahead, with Rachid at his side, for Ash to have to jog to catch up.

Well. There goes that hot feeling. (No, that’s an absolute lie, because the problem with being in love is that you love someone _because_ of their flaws not in spite of them and Stuart couldn’t be more flawed if he tried.)

“Fuck you, Stuart,” Ash says, under his breath, as he jogs to catch up.

“Stop number three,” Stuart says when Ash catches up, leading them around the corner and up the narrow gap that spits them out into the smoking zone. “Smoker’s corner. Ash will try to tell you he only smokes when he’s drinking. That is a lie.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Ash says, rolling his eyes and resisting the desperate urge to light up now that they’re here. He nods at Mr Fry, the Lit teacher he and Stuart had shared at GCSE (and Stuart still has), while he pulls his phone out to reply.

 _yeah, why not. i’ve got nothing else on_ Ash looks up to see if Stuart’s got his reply and his heart sinks a little. Stuart’s talking to Angie, who he’d befriended at the last party of the summer holidays, and Ash really doesn’t want to think about it. Angie’s nice and all, a bit obsessed with the environment, but she’s not right for Stuart. Ash just knows it.

“Ah, Mr Greenwick,” Mr Fry says, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall. “I take it this is the new student?”

“Rachid,” Rachid says, staring up at all 6’4 of the giant English teacher. Mr Fry is stately and impressive and Ash had always enjoyed his class, the man’s love for the written word was infectious. He’s Stuart’s favourite teacher after Dr Goldacre.

“I believe you’ll be joining Mr Greenwick and Mr Bayldon in my colleague’s English Language class,” Mr Fry says, spreading his hands expansively. “I believe you’ll find it rather extraordinary. Mr Ince is perhaps the angriest man I’ve ever met.”

“Um, sure,” Rachid says uncertainly. Ash hides his smile behind his hand.

“Keep this to yourself, Greenwick,” Mr Fry turns his eyes on Ash. He spent the first ten years of his teaching career at one of the ridiculous public schools down South and has never shaken some the habits he picked up. “Mr Laurie tells me he wants the Year 13s to reinterpret _Midsummer’s_ this year.”

“Really?” Ash asks, forgetting for a moment anything other than the prospect of performing in one of his favourite plays.

“M’Coll generally doesn’t lie to me,” Mr Fry says, smiling. There’s a shade to it that Ash recognises, sees on himself in reflective surfaces that catch him smiling at Stuart, and for a moment his heart squeezes for Mr Fry. “I think you’d make an excellent Puck. What do you say, Bayldon?”

Stuart has appeared at Ash’s side, apparently done with his approach to Angie, and Ash looks across to find Stuart staring at him. Stuart ruffles his hair into curled spikes and Ash tries to duck away, embarrassed by Stuart doing this in front of other people. Stuart flashes a smile.

“There’s definitely something Puckish about him, sir,” Stuart says, nodding to Mr Fry.

“Well, best be off,” Mr Fry says, clapping his hands together. “If no-one tells on me, I’ll tell on no-one. See you this afternoon, Bayldon.”

The rest of the smokers wave to him as slides through the narrow gap, pulling his generous stomach in even as it strains against his waistcoat, and Stuart follows him, Ash and Rachid trailing behind him.

“Last stop on the Tour up next,” Stuart says, walking backwards for a moment when they extricate themselves from the alley. “Possibly the most important.”

“Yeah?” Rachid raises his eyebrows. “More important than toilets, you mean?”

“Sarcasm? Already?” Stuart asks, exchanging a smile with Ash. “Kids grow up so fast these days.”

Rachid laughs at this and Stuart looks pleasantly surprised. He falls back into step with Ash as Ash’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Ash checks it while Stuart explains to Rachid why he’s taking both Lit and Lang (Ash’s heard it so many times before he thinks he could repeat Stuart’s reasons verbatim).

 _cool. might as well go straight from school. this better have the happy ending you promised me_ (Later, when Ash examines every detail of the day, he will swear that his heart stopped at this. He'll be embarrassed for himself.)

“So,” Ash says, before that warm hope can roll up on him again. “Angie?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Stuart says, shrugging. “She seems interested.”

“Good,” Ash says, swallowing down his usual irrational reaction to any girl Stuart fancies. “That’s good.”

“You alright?” Stuart asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. Ash shakes himself and forces as natural a smile as he can.

“Just had a horrible image of you with Angie,” he says, shuddering. “Not a pretty thought.”

Stuart pulls a face and Ash laughs, ducking his head. Now he _does_ have that image in his mind. As usual, though, it’s focused entirely on what he half-fantasises Stuart might look like. It’s a more enjoyable thought that he ever intends to let on.

They curve around the school to the science building, rather newer than the rest of the school with solar panels on the roof and everything, and over to the crumbling piece of wall that’s all that’s left of the previous science building.

“This is where you come at lunchtime,” Stuart says. “Think you can remember the route?”

“It’s not exactly rocket surgery,” Rachid says, rolling his eyes at Stuart.

The bell for the end of break rings before Stuart can respond.

“Come on then, Mr Surgeon,” Stuart says, slapping Rachid on the arm. “We better get you to your next class.”

“Physics,” Ash offers when Stuart looks a question at him. “Prof Cox.”

“Oh, _fun_ ,” Stuart says, eyes sparking with interest. “It’s been a while since we said hello.”

Rachid follows them into the building and along the corridors. Ash doesn’t mind personally delivering Rachid to his next class because they’ve got Biology just around the corner. He gets itchy when they’re late to class and Stuart being the way Stuart is that happens more often than not. Thankfully all their teachers are used to it by now and just wave them in when Stuart knocks on the door.

“Prof Cox’s Physics classroom,” Stuart says, gesturing when they arrive. “We’ve got a free after Bio so we’ll see you at lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rachid nods. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ash says, waving a hand.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got you two again this year,” Prof Cox says, coming up behind them. Ash wonders if he’s hearing things when half a dozen sighs float through the corridor, but when he looks over his shoulder he sees a few of the girls in their year staring openly at Prof Cox.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Stuart says. “Just making a delivery.”

“New student,” Ash says when Prof Cox’s eyes meet his. Prof Cox’s attention used to make him blush but he got over that around about the time he fell in love with his best mate.

“And he’s stuck with you two?” Prof Cox asks, shaking his head. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Hey,” Stuart says, raising his hands. “I’ll have you know I’m well thought of as a caretaker of new students.”

“To be fair to you both,” Prof Cox says, looking between them. “You’ve never dragged any of the students you’ve befriended down to your level.”

“Down?” Stuart asks, deliberate surprise on his face. “All of our friends have excellent grades. We are not the bad influences you like to think we are, sir.”

Ash has to hide his laughter again or Stuart will start laughing too. Prof Cox sighs.

“Have they told you about the bingo game yet?” he asks Rachid and this time Ash can’t stop the snort of laughter from escaping.

“Uh, no?” Rachid looks from Prof Cox to Stuart and back again.

“Small mercies, then,” Prof Cox says, waving Rachid into the classroom. “Aren’t you two meant to be in Dr Goldacre’s classroom about now?”

“It’s hardly millions of miles away, sir,” Stuart says and Ash’s laughter becomes open. Prof Cox sighs dramatically but there’s an edge of a smile about his lips as he follows Rachid into the classroom.

“Nice,” Ash says as they reverse their path down the corridor.

“Incredibly well placed, I thought,” Stuart says, laughing to himself. He exchanges a look with Ash and they’re both laughing a little too hard when they arrive at Dr Goldacre’s classroom.

“I suppose I could thank God, if I believed in It, that you’re only two minutes late to our first class,” Dr Goldacre says as they walk.

“Sorry, sir, we were just –” Stuart says and Dr Goldacre waves a hand.

“New student, I know, I’ve heard,” he says, pointing to their habitual table. “Just sit down and try not to bother me too much. It’s not fair that I have to put up with you two on the first day.”

The rest of the class (a small one, just fifteen students) laugh as Ash and Stuart sit down.

“Books,” Dr Goldacre says, moving up and down the aisles dropping heavy textbooks on the tables. “Read them at your leisure but at least attempt to have the first chapter read by the end of the week. This year we start with neurochemistry. Which should help us to theorise away Stuart’s more irritating habits.”

“I think this is bullying, sir,” Stuart protests half-heartedly. He’s always sparred with Dr Goldacre – it's one of the reasons Ash knows Stuart actually respects him.

“Take it up with your local MP,” Dr Goldacre says to another muffled bout of laughter. “Now – who wants to start us with the basics? Anyone but Stuart, please.”

Which is the other thing about Stuart and Bio. Stuart already knows all this stuff because he reads medical journals for fun. He’s even read Dr Goldacre’s papers, much to Dr Goldacre’s grudging appreciation.

Stuart nudges Ash’s leg with his knee as Fat Carl starts reciting a description of neurochemistry that he clearly memorised off Wikipedia. Ash looks across to see Stuart with their new textbook open, measuring a section of the table of contents with his hands. _What he already knows_.

Ash makes a suitably impressed sounding noise and the corners of Stuart’s lips twitch up into a brief smile. Ash fights the urge to sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. The teachers at this school are apparently either British TV personalities and associates of the [Monkey Cage](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Infinite_Monkey_Cage).


End file.
